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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874416">Is this seat taken?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonnim/pseuds/melonnim'>melonnim</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, M/M, probably, wip lmao</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:00:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,314</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25874416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonnim/pseuds/melonnim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto always makes sure to leave a seat empty.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Is this seat taken?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>There he is again, </em>Akaashi thinks. He’s fiddling with the receipt he got from his purchase a few seconds ago, ripping it into pieces mindlessly. His drink sat on top of the small, round table that was clearly the only one free in one of the busiest coffee shops in Tokyo—which was <em>ridiculous, </em>there are <em>tons </em>of coffee shops out there that serve better coffee. Akaashi thought he had a one up over everyone else—it’s shit coffee, but it’s one of the only coffee shops that had free wi-fi <em>and </em>plugs. He thought he was smarter than everyone else, thinking ahead.</p><p> </p><p>            Apparently, everyone in Tokyo thought the same.</p><p> </p><p>            He’s biting the edge of his straw, a bad habit that he’s been trying to get rid of. But the only time Akaashi ever bites his straw is when he’s frustrated—and the very source of his frustration is coming from the table at the farthest end of the shop. It was a prime spot. A spot next to the window, the kind of windows that spread from floor to ceiling. <em>And it was tinted</em>, Akaashi echoes in his mind, meaning the sunlight from the day won’t bother him while he’s on his laptop, or glare against his screen. What’s more, it was beside a <em>plug, </em>and the router was hanging from the ceiling right above it. It was <em>perfect. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>            And yet, <em>and yet, </em>Akaashi thinks, gritting his teeth with the poor, plastic green straw right in between—he’s <em>never </em>had the chance to sit on it. Never. Absolutely never has Akaashi chanced upon the golden seat for the entire time he’s been going to the University five blocks down, which is a <em>pretty damn long time, </em>considering he’s graduating this semester. He could barely fit in any breaks in between his classes, so having to walk five blocks from his university was upsetting.</p><p> </p><p>            <em>What’s worse, </em>Akaashi cranes his neck backwards to get rid of the knot in his joints, <em>is that it’s always the same guy. Always. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Akaashi knows he’s staring at him. He’s hyperaware of the fact that he’s probably the only one in this café that looks like they’re about to absolutely <em>slaughter </em>someone if the guy in that seat doesn’t decide to leave. Why does he always have to be here during the only times Akaashi had breaks?</p><p> </p><p>            “He can’t possibly be living in this café.” Akaashi says as he takes out his notebook and a mechanical pencil, placing it on the meager space the table had to offer. He scribbles a sketch of the man who was taking up the seat, filling in with lead the areas of where his spikey hair turned black. “The only possible explanation for this is that we have the same breaks. The same class times.” Akaashi writes down <em>same schedule </em>legibly beside his sketch of the man. “Ridiculous.”</p><p> </p><p>            Akaashi stops scribbling on his notebook, tapping his pencil against the sheets of paper. “I have approximately 3 hours left before my next class, and I haven’t written a single thing.” He says under his breath. He leans back and crosses his arms, contemplates for a bit, and finally turns back to where the man was sitting. “And I only have 30% on my laptop left.”</p><p> </p><p>            “Assessment.” He mouths to himself. <em>He looks like he’s going to be alone for the entire time he’s here. </em>Akaashi nods to himself, eyes peering at the man through the lens of his glasses. <em>He’s on the muscular side, and he doesn’t have a bag with him—so he’s probably not here to study. </em>Akaashi writes down <em>dumb jock </em>beside the sketch of the man. <em>He’s been on his phone for the entire time, but he doesn’t look like he’s texting… A scrolling motion? He’s on twitter? Facebook? </em>Akaashi writes down details on his notebook like he’s enchanted.</p><p> </p><p>            <em>So… Dumb jock who spends time at a coffee shop to scroll through memes on his phone. </em>Akaashi encircles the entire description, nodding to himself, satisfied. He leans back and looks down to where his backpack was on the floor, and frowns. There was barely any space in between him and the person next to him—the couch seats were <em>crap </em>and any coffee shop that thinks its remotely okay to have one should really close down.</p><p> </p><p>            He’s out of options. Based on his assessment, this guy wouldn’t mind… right?</p><p> </p><p>            So he goes for it.</p><p> </p><p>            “Excuse me?”</p><p> </p><p>            Akaashi hears himself for the first time and starts to regret it. He knows his voice tone changed the moment the guy looked up at him—<em>god damn it—</em>he should really learn how to control his emotions. “I—I just wanted to ask if I could sit here? I mean, there are… 3 other chairs on your table that don’t look occupied, and I mean—I wont bother you? I just need the plug beside you and—the router, it’s up there? The internet might be faster here and I really need to get my research paper started, you see, it’s due in three hours… Two hours and 47 minutes, actually…”</p><p> </p><p>            Akaashi shuts his mouth before he goes on rambling any further. He can’t seem to turn away from the guy who’s still looking at him, eyes curious and absolutely unwavering. “I mean… I just…”</p><p> </p><p>            “Sure.” He smiles.</p><p> </p><p>            Akaashi feels his heart drop out of his chest.</p><p> </p><p>            <em>Don’t smile at me like that, oh my god. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Akaashi doesn’t say anything, but his body moves on its own. <em>Sit on the chair parallel to him, Akaashi. Not the one right across. Anything but that. Your charger is long enough to reach the other end of the table. Don’t fucking do it. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Akaashi has always had a love-hate relationship with his body. It seems like today, it was serving him a piping-hot dish of absolute <em>hatred, </em>as his arms reach for the one chair that stood directly across the man that looked like a mess of blacks, grays, whites and blues.</p><p> </p><p>            “Sorry—I, I don’t know if my charger will reach that far, if—if you’re uncomfortable with me sitting right across—”</p><p> </p><p>            “—Oh no, you’re good.”</p><p> </p><p>            His voice is a bit high-pitched, like it’s not meant to sound calm. Akaashi imagines a situation where to man is shouting—and it seemed fitting, especially for someone who smiled like that. All teeth. Akaashi wants to clutch his chest to stay calm. <em>Stop imagining any kind of future with him, dumbass. He’s just letting you sit at the golden table. He’s probably going to leave after a while. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Akaashi nods and takes out his laptop from bag, opening it on one of the biggest tables in the coffee shop. He finally felt like he was in his element, a sigh escaping from his lips. “Finally…” Akaashi says to no one in particular, but realizes that he’s caught the attention of the man across him.</p><p> </p><p>            “You good?” He says, all his teeth showing up in his smile as if he found Akaashi <em>amusing. </em>Akaashi feels his ears go red, which was fine since it’s been a while since he’s gotten a haircut, and his hair was generously hiding away any sense of embarrassment he had left in him.</p><p> </p><p>            “I’m good, just—stressed out.”</p><p> </p><p>            “If you don’t mind me asking, what department are you from?”</p><p> </p><p>            <em>Don’t do it Akaashi. You need to graduate this semester. You have no time to make friends. No lovers, either. Don’t do it. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Business.” Akaashi says in absolute defeat. “Business Admin.”</p><p> </p><p>            “Sounds dope. You have a name?”</p><p> </p><p>            Akaashi looks up from his laptop, his lower lip unconsciously clenched in between his teeth. He’s thinking, assessing for the next steps he should be taking, but the sight of the man’s genuine looking smile made him, for the first time, jump in head first.</p><p> </p><p>            “Keiji. Akaashi Keiji.”</p><p> </p><p>            <em>That fucking smug ass looking grin. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>“Kotaro, Bokuto Kotaro.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>idk LMAO i haven't written anything for bts in a looong time and suddenly im writing abt haikyuu issa bye lets see if i manage to do anything with this ahahahah</p></blockquote></div></div>
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